Footsteps to Rivendell
by Ellwyn
Summary: Finally COMPLETE!!! Sequel to Golden Leaves of Lorien. Countless years have passed, but Legolas cannot bring himself to forget. A message arrives from Rivendell, old memories are stirred.
1. Recollection

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Footsteps to Rivendell

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A Sequel to Golden Leaves of Lórien

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Chapter One: Recollection

"There you are!" 

The Elf turned around and saw the little girl standing behind him, waving a message back and forth. He knelt to take the small slip of parchment. 

"Why hello, Arulwen. What have you brought me today?" He smiled, the sharp features on his face lighting up, and his eyes twinkled darkly.

Arulwen—that is, one of the Elven children of the forest kingdom of Mirkwood, grinned and then shuffled her feet restlessly. "It's from the King, you know…"

"Oh." He had already figured that by the handwriting. His father's signature was scribbled neatly at the bottom of the small parchment. Legolas shrugged as his eyes scanned over the message.

"Well?" 

He averted his eyes and looked down at Arulwen's eager shining face. "Well, what?"

"What does it say?" The girl's eyes were brimmed with curiosity. 

Legolas grinned. "It says that my father is requesting that I ask—no, beg--you to marry me, fairest of all maidens, Arulwen. You are the morning star of my heart and I would wish no other!"

Arulwen giggled, a merry sound that nearly brought light into Legolas' heart again. With an effort he shoved the troubling thoughts in the back of his mind further back. He was glad the child had interrupted his silent reverie, yet a part of him felt the only way he could get rid of his feelings was if he faced them.

"Oh, my fair Arulwen, would you do me the kindness?"

"Oh, yes, my prince! But first I have to go gather wood for my mama…"

"Of course." He straightened and tucked the message into his tunic. "Run along and play, my morning star. I am sure your fair lady friends are lamenting your absence. You know I shall wait forever."

The little girl grinned again and he reached down to tousle her soft hair, not yet full grown and only reaching the top of her back. But she did not turn to leave as he expected she would. Instead, her mirthful expression changed quicker than summer becomes fall and she looked up at him inquisitively. Legolas saw with surprise the Elvish wisdom in her eyes that had been concealed before by her supposed naïveté. 

"Why the glum face, Arulwen?" he asked in a more subdued tone.

She looked up at him and her blue eyes searched his face. "Legolas, why are you so sad sometimes?"

He faltered, at a loss for words. It was no surprise that the Elven child was so perceptive, for he had known her to say or do something completely unexpected from time to time. But he thought he hid it well. After all, it had been so many years, and the people around him had yet to remark on its presence.

"Why do you say so?" His voice was quiet, like a whisper, on the verge of cracking away with the breeze. Legolas felt ashamed that he could so suddenly lose grasp of his emotions, but he did not say so.

"Sometimes you just stop talking and your face gets all stony and you get this faraway look in it. …Then a shadow falls over your eyes—almost like you've seen the black lands and its monsters right in front of your eyes. What happened to you?"

A smile touched Legolas' lips and he knelt down to her. "An ache of my heart, Arulwen. Perhaps someday when you are older I shall tell you the entire story. But it is of no great importance…merely a lingering memory that I should have forgotten years ago."

"But you haven't forgotten, have you? You remember it because it hurt you a lot." It wasn't a question. She just knew.

Legolas straightened without answering. "Arulwen, go play," he muttered tersely. His head was beginning to hurt a little.

She dashed off with a sudden eagerness befitting a child and he again was taken aback by her sudden change of emotion. She might be a child, he thought, but she was wise and she had considerable control over the masking of her emotions.

Legolas repeated the words of the message in his mind. _'My son, I have just received word that a council shall be held in Rivendell. My kinsman Lord Elrond has requested the presence of a representative of our people. I dare not send one of the aristocrats of my halls. And what better than to send my one son? Legolas, something tells me that this is a serious matter, one that forbodes ill. –Thranduil'_

What could possibly be going on? The last event of any importance had ended abruptly perhaps three seasons ago, when the strange creature Gollum had ventured upon Mirkwood. Legolas remembered grimly the night that the Orcs attacked their village. He had been leading the defense against the invading Orcs and recalled a feeling of victory at the easily won battle. But then the word got around that Gollum had disappeared with the fleeing band of Orcs…

And since then things had been quiet in the woods. Time was abundant and without something to occupy him, Legolas found his thoughts unwillingly turning to something in his memory. It had been nearly two thousand years since his last visit to the Golden Woods.

Legolas felt that familiar pain tightening in his chest and berated himself for mourning over something that happened so long ago. Although it seemed unusual, it was not a shock to him that the pain in his heart was still as poignant as it had been so long ago. 

He shook his head suddenly as if to shake himself out of his stupor, and then went in the direction of his father's halls.

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Disclaimer: The usual. All Lord of the Rings plots, characters, and trademarks are the rightful property of Saul Zaentz and Co. and J.R.R. Tolkien. Other plots/characters/stuff are…I suppose…property of me. 

A/N: First chapter, finally posted! There is more to come—at least 3 more chapters but I have yet to write more. A bit busy these days (which is why chapters are significantly shorter! Oh well, all the easier for you to read quickly ^^)…but hopefully this one won't be delayed too long. Please review!!!

Questions? Email to: jidai_rinoa@hotmail.com


	2. Echoes From the Past

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Footsteps to Rivendell

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A Sequel to Golden Leaves of Lórien

By Ellwyn Phoenix 

(jidai_rinoa@hotmail.com)

Chapter Two: Echoes From the Past

His hands ran through the mane of his chestnut stallion and he patted it on the nose gently. He was a mere two leagues away from the Elven paradise, Rivendell, and he could already make it out in the distance, peeking out from behind mountains and waterfalls. It was a beautiful place and he had only visited several times before with his father, when he was much younger. That was so long ago, and even with all the years that had passed the sight of the valley was breathtaking.

Legolas reached into the horse's pack and smiled as he felt the horse's teeth lightly scraping his palm as he held out the handful of straw. His two companions, friends of his father's, were still mounted and they were looking about them. One of them stopped to turn around and shout to him, "Legolas! It is near midday, and Rivendell is within sight. Why do you dally?" 

He sighed and then mounted his horse again. The other two riders continued on down the hill towards the Anduin, snaking along the valley and glittering silver in the sunlight.

After an hour's riding Legolas found himself far behind his companions, who had already entered the city of Rivendell. He spurred his horse through the shallow area of the river and then quickly galloped through the trees to the entrance of the city.

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Legolas dismounted his horse after riding into the archway leading into the city's plaza and looked about him with the slightest smile playing on his face. The place was beautiful. He admired the statues, fountains, and countless towers before noticing the rider that had arrived just before him. 

It was a man, he knew from just a glance, and he was fair and noble of face. Even his movements were regal. He was cloaked and booted and hanging at his side was a great horn tipped with silver. Legolas watched him lead his horse to the stables and then ascend the stairs to disappear behind a row of statues. 

It was surely something of great importance, if men from Gondor were being summoned to the council as well, Legolas thought. Legolas looked about him once more and he could swear that he almost felt the sense of foreboding hanging in the air. Nevertheless, the city was beautiful and he could not draw himself away from admiring the ancient architecture.

He was letting the clear water from a nearby fountain run over his hands when he heard it. A faint voice carried along the breeze that barely reached his keen ears. His senses alerted and he suddenly felt a strange constriction in his chest…

…That voice was all too familiar. He felt his heart lurch in his chest but he just rolled his eyes in exasperation at himself. What, now I'm hearing things? Now I must really be losing my wits. You are really something, Greenleaf. 

But the voice continued, rising and falling with the wind. It held no expression, he noticed. He straightened and listened to it intently. He was so lost in the sound and ring of it that he realized he was soaking the edges of his sleeves in the water. Hastily he removed his hands and wiped them dry on his tunic. But then, suddenly the voice stopped. Legolas nearly stopped breathing in an effort to hear where it had been coming from.

He felt more troubled now than he had in years. And all because of something he thought he heard on the wind? He reached down to splash water onto his face and said aloud, "Now, really. Hearing voices in your head. You ought to be ashamed of yourself, Legolas. There is nothing--"

And then the sound of footsteps reached his ears. Footsteps, descending the stairs behind him into the city plaza. A maiden was giggling musically. Legolas slowly wiped his face off with his sleeve but did not turn around. Something grew that lingered in the back of his mind.

The laughing stopped. As did the footsteps. He knew he had heard two sets of footsteps.

"What's wrong, Lyann?" The girl who had done the laughing was now asking. 

Legolas' heart froze and he shut his eyes. Still, he could not bring himself to move and face who he knew was standing at the foot of the stairs.

"Well?" The girl's voice sounded puzzled and slightly irked. "You really are strange, you know, Lyann. You look as though you could have seen a ghost!"

He kept his eyes staring straight ahead blankly with his back still turned toward them. Oh, Elbereth, what is wrong with you? There are hundreds of people with the same name—or are there? Really, now, of course! But still he could not resist the anticipation he felt for a response from the Elven girl's companion.

"…I think I have," were the only words Legolas could make out. The voice was undoubtedly the same as the one he had heard earlier, but now it was barely above a whisper, subdued.

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Legolas' breath stopped short. He felt the color drain from his face and his heartbeat quickened perceptibly. He kept as still as a statue. Just the thought of her, standing just meters away from him, when in his mind she was still hundreds of leagues away. He found it hard to believe she was there, looking at him at that very moment. The years that had passed seemed so many, but in the inner reaches of his mind Legolas remembered every single aching moment of every year and every thought he had of her. No matter how hard he tried to forget--

Hearing her voice again. If he turned, he would see her. What would she look like now? At least she had recognized him. But, he couldn't help but wonder, if it had been just a faint recognition—if she didn't know who he was, or if she had forgotten everything… felt no pain…

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The girl laughed again. "Anyhow, I must be getting back; I have things to do. I shall see you later tonight!" Finally Legolas heard her turn and go back up the stairs. But _she_ was still standing there. Or whoever it was. It certainly wasn't her—well, it couldn't be her at all! He silently berated himself.

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It isn't him, you fool, it's just someone else—my goodness, at the sight of any elf from Mirkwood you lose all control like this? It's been so long anyway, if it was him he wouldn't remember you—

Legolas set his jaw and slowly turned around. He was fully turned around before he raised his eyes from the ground…

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Oh, Elbereth!

His heart cried out in recognition and unspeakable longing, but he forced his face to remain blank with an iron grip on his composure. Across the plaza there stood an Elf with dark hair, and just as dark eyes that were looking past the statues between them and were trained on him. He saw the look of shock on her face. That face…there she is, right here, in Rivendell. How long has it been? Of course, nearly two thousand years. 

But the moment of shock passed as quickly as it had arrived and before he knew it she had turned around and disappeared up the steps. Legolas nearly cried out for her to stop but he couldn't bring himself to. 

That look in her eyes when she saw him—that utter pain that mirrored his own if not accentuated it. Every detail was imprinted in his mind. She had blinked furiously at first seeing him when he raised his eyes to look at her. He saw the shock written on her face, but it was momentary, and then unexpectedly she turned and ran off. And yet he still had time to notice how her face grew pallid in mere seconds. Her eyes…those very eyes had been locked onto his. It had been so long, and just the sight of her again made his spine tingle curiously. 

  
Why, Erlyannil?

Did she think he had forgotten her? No, that was too presumptuous to believe she had held him in her heart--or even her memory, for that matter--for this long. He nearly wanted to laugh at himself but the pain and astonishment was too great. She was probably already attached, if not married. Of course, she had come to Rivendell and met someone, then married and here she was, living here. He had just intruded on her life and raised something in her that she had buried away. You moron, Legolas. Fool. You don't matter to her anymore and you barely did when you were with her anyway—chasing after her inanely, and in all that chaos, of course she wouldn't want to remember you. With it only comes the memory of her parents and her dead friend, and…

With an effort Legolas tore his eyes away from the staircase where she had stood and turned back to the fountain, meaning to immerse his head in the cold water just to be revived. But the clear peal of a bell sounded in the air as the breeze rustled the treetops. He went back to his horse to get his belongings and then remembered the stable boy's directions to a small tower where he was to stay until the following day brought the beginning of the council.

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Disclaimer: All LOTR affiliated trademarks are property of Saul Zaentz and Co., and Tolkien enterprises. I suppose the rest belongs to me, but even then it isn't original no doubt… =) 

A/N: Third installment coming next week. Now I have to get busy writing more so that the chapters will be ready to post with every weekend! Please review as always. 


	3. By Moonlight

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Footsteps to Rivendell

A Sequel to Golden Leaves of Lórien

By Ellwyn Phoenix 

(jidai_rinoa@hotmail.com)

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Chapter Three: By Moonlight

He couldn't help it. When night was upon the Elven refuge he felt an irrepressible urge to explore the city. He whispered to himself in the dark that the only reason was that he needed fresh air and that he wanted to examine the beautiful lacquered arches again, as he slipped out of bed. He hadn't really been _in _bed, sleeping, but rather staring at the ceiling blankly. He knew what the real reason was. He had to find her. And speak to her. If he left Rivendell without seeing her again, knowing that she was so near…his mind would implode, he thought. 

And at seeing her again, all the pain he had fought so long to push down had surfaced in a moment. His heart was racing as he divested himself of the brown traveling cloak he had arrived in and changed to his green embroidered tunic. He stepped out of his room and out onto a balcony that overlooked the plaza. A new moon hung low in the sky and Legolas couldn't help but feel a pang of déjà vu. That silver light, that same new moon had been the light that peeked through the branches of the Golden Wood that night he had danced with her…

What if she doesn't want to see me? Of course she doesn't want to see me! Or she wouldn't have disappeared in such a hurry at the sight of you.

I don't care, he thought, I have to find her. 

I'll die if I don't.

His eyes quickly searched the plaza from his viewpoint atop the balcony and then he descended into the square. There was only a small remainder of Elves strolling through the plaza. Legolas descended the stairs. 

He strode through the plaza quickly and then emerged onto a beautifully carved walkway. But his thoughts were elsewhere and his footsteps light and hurried. His eyes cast about and one happening upon him would have thought him to be frantic.

After half an hour he had nearly strolled through all the walkways and groves that existed in the city. And still the new moon hung low in the sky. His spirits dove into the abyss.

Of course she isn't here. She's probably in her home, or wherever she stays. She's probably with someone else. Someone else…

At the mere thought his hand clenched involuntarily into a fist and his knuckles turned white. His face grew pallid and his expression turned pensive. 

She had grown—before she had been a mere adolescent, and her face was young with childish innocence. She looked different now. No, every feature of her was the same and just as recognizable. Only that before, the fleeting vision of beauty barely touched her, while now with the passage of time she had grown to be merely beautiful. 

She isn't any more beautiful than the other young maidens. There is nothing different about her. 

But that that was just an excuse he was saying in his mind to get himself to stop thinking so irrationally. Why had he been so attracted to her in the first place? It was not like him to dive into love blindly. There were so many maidens just lining up to flutter their eyelashes at him, even back then, before he had met her. And since then, it had been no different. Except that the maidens of Mirkwood soon lost interest after he had given them no ounce of his attention, his favor.

So what was it about her? …It doesn't matter, he thought grimly, because I loved her. She may have been no more beautiful than the others, no more charming, nor modest, nor talented, but she was Erlyannil, and I loved her.

What am I doing? This isn't what I was sent here to do. 

Legolas' breathing was heavy and erratic as he sat down on a bench in the middle of a walkway shaded by an overhang that put it into shadows with the dim light of the dying day. He put his face into his hands and struggled against the tears that threatened to overcome him.

He did not know how long he had sat like this until a footstep rang out clear to his left. Legolas immediately turned in the direction. His heart skipped a beat.

There she was, standing at the foot of a narrow staircase. Watching him in his agony. Without sentiment.

Legolas straightened and nearly stood but she stepped backwards as though frightened. His eyes searched her face earnestly. He saw her swallow with some effort and then he saw the irregular heaving of her chest. His heart was beating so loud in his ears that he was astonished the entire city was not aware of it.

She wasn't moving. He stood but did not dare to close the space between them. Heart beating in his throat, he summoned up the courage to speak.

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Why?! He wanted to cry, _why do you torment me like this? Why did you have to be here…before there may actually have been a chance of forgetting my last trip to the golden woods, but now…_

"…I would ask you what you are doing here, but I fear that would be nothing…that isn't what I want to say," he managed instead. His voice nearly cracked but he kept it from doing so with much effort. 

She was silent. Regarding him with those clear dark eyes, harrowing his soul. Or at least that's what it felt like in the moments of her silence. Legolas was inhaling and exhaling shallowly. In fact, he was barely breathing at all.

"Then what is it you wish to say," she finally whispered. Her voice was thin.

Legolas did not reply. He stepped toward her slowly until he was but a foot away. "Erlyannil--" he began, but she shook her head quickly.

"Don't." 

"Don't what?" He was beginning to lose control over his composure. It worried and angered him at the same time that she did not appear as nervous as he. She was expressionless.

Erlyannil sighed. "Don't speak to me like that. As thought you actually knew me." She shut her eyes and lowered her face.

His heart sunk. "But I do, Erlyannil. No, or is it that you mean to tell me the reason I cannot speak to you…is because you are…married." It was not a question. 

She raised her eyes. "Not married." Relief was a common term for the feeling that washed through him. "But I am in love with someone."

Relief? Right, relief, if I was an Orc's brother. He bit down on his lower lip. "Of course. It was _only _one thousand, seven hundred, and thirty two years," he whispered to himself.

Her gaze flickered briefly from his face. _He keeps track of every day to pass… _"Legolas, I…you…what are you doing here?"

He murmured something about 'council' without looking up.

"I left Lothlórien many summers ago. Rivendell is still beautiful after so many ages." Erlyannil's voice was so controlled and level that Legolas wanted to put his fist through a wall and scream.

"Like you." His voice was haggard now and his face still pointed at his feet. 

He heard her sigh again.

"You remember what I told you about sighing," he couldn't help remarking.

"Yes…" and for a moment her eyes lit up but it was short-lived. "No, Legolas. No."

"Who is he?" The question was blurted out. The only question that had been reeling in his mind for the last few minutes.

"Why does it matter. I met him when I came here to stay and…"

"You fell in love upon meeting, of course."

She was silent again.

"I can't think about it," he admitted. His eyes raised and looked directly into hers. He saw her flinch. "Tell me why, Erlyannil. Tell me. You don't have to love me. Not now, not anymore…" His hand clenched. "But, please…listen to me, believe me when I say I love you." His voice faded to a whisper. The light suddenly grew dimmer as the sliver of a moon disappeared behind the line of a hill.

He felt her take a deep breath and expel it.

"No. I can't."

"You can't, or you won't?"

"Legolas, that was so long ago, you can't still have--"

"I told you I would never forget. Never means _never._" he bit out harshly. His voice was full of spite now. "Perhaps you didn't think that when I said 'never,' I meant never. Or perhaps you have a differing notion of the length of time that 'forever' extends to."

"Please…don't…" She was about to step back when he reached out and took her hand. He brought it to his lips and gently kissed the back of her hand, then her palm, and then each of her fingertips.

He couldn't control himself or the feelings that ran rampant through him. He could feel her trembling at the contact. But she slipped her hand from his as quickly as she could without snatching it away. And yet, she had let him caress her hand for more than just a moment, Legolas noticed.

"Legolas," she whispered. The look in her eyes was too much. Legolas was suddenly against her, his lips crashed against hers and his fingers tangling in her hair. He could feel her chest against his, rising and falling frantically, the beating of her heart mirroring the hammering of his own. His lips parted from her mouth and he began to kiss her face, her cheeks, her lips, her neck. When he reached her ear he whispered into it, "You believe me, don't you."

She pulled away from him and nearly tripped against the stairs behind her. "Stop it. Stop it! Legolas, please…!" There were unbidden tears in her eyes.

He felt as though he were in a dream. "I don't care how long it has been. Millions of years could pass and I would still remember you, Erlyannil. It hurts me that you seem not to care anymore." 'It hurts' was probably the understatement of the year. He stepped closer and kissed her again, though gently this time.

Erlyannil turned her face away and she hit him.

She had struck him across his face and it stung nearly as much as it hurt him inside. He felt the trickle of blood from his upper lip and the pungent metallic taste of it reached his tongue.

"I said, stop it. Please, leave me alone. Don't speak to me. I can't see you again…ever. I mean that, Legolas. Never does mean never, and you're wrong—I didn't forget; I can't forget. I understand what 'never' means, Legolas, and now I'm telling you. Never come looking for me. Never speak to me." she managed in a choked whisper. 

Before he could recover she had ascended the stairs in a flurry and disappeared. He would have caught her had he pursued her, but he couldn't. He put a hand up to touch the forming bruise on his cheek and tears came to his eyes. It was not often that he cried, for many a tragic thing had happened upon him. But he couldn't and didn't want to stop it this time. The tears coursed rivers down his cheeks and he sat down on the step raggedly sobbing into his knees.

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A/N: Wait, I thought you said it was going to be a happy story?! Lol. "It ain't over till the train gets to our stop!" To quote Final Fantasy 7…. ^_~ I've been hard hit with a blast of homework and busy schedules. The next chapter is coming, but those following might be delayed. Sorry! Busily writing, though. 

*By the way, I just got home from seeing The Four Feathers. Go see it!!! It's a very good movie. ^^ Aside from the gushy love-story which we're all suckers for (…I mean, you're reading this story, aren't you? lol) it's like an epic. Reminds me of Gladiator, but that's probably only because Djimon Honsou was in it (he is so cool…and Heath Ledger is so hot…haha. Oh of course, not like Legolas—but still, he's up there. At least for me.) Hehe. 


	4. Decision

**__**

Footsteps to Rivendell

A Sequel to Golden Leaves of Lórien

By Ellwyn Phoenix

(jidai_rinoa@hotmail.com)

_____________________________________________________________________________________

Chapter Four: Decision

"I have summoned you here to discuss the matter of the One Ring," Elrond's voice was ringing out loud and clear. A strong sense of dread that no one could grasp permeated the air. "Frodo, the Ring."

The intimidated halfling slowly approached the center of the circle where stood a pillar of stone. And from his pocket he withdrew a small golden circle. Hesitatingly he placed it on the stone, and everyone seated around it felt a sudden simultaneous shiver. The feeling of power was immense.

Legolas stared at it, his jaw clenched, his fingers grasping the arms of his chair. He was tense, breath subdued and senses wary. Tearing his gaze away from the golden band, he looked around at the council and silently noticed that each of them was undergoing a similar reaction.

"…It is a gift," a murmur arose from across the circle. "Do you not see? It has been given to us, the power has been placed in the hands of the foes of Mordor!" The man Legolas had seen arriving before him the other day, the man of Gondor who bore the hunting horn, was standing now, hands beseeching those around him. "Long have my people defended the borders against the dark lord…"

"We cannot wield it!" another man retorted reproachfully. He stood and looked the speaker straight in the eye. 

"What say have you in these matters? You are but a mere ranger." The man's voice was full of scorn.

Legolas felt a hot anger surge up. He knew the 'mere ranger' all too well now—Aragorn, heir of Isildur, the ranger known as Strider who had before visited Northern Mirkwood. Legolas knew the story, he knew the facts, and he knew the line of blood. The man from Gondor was not in his place. 

He stood and looked sternly at the man. "This is no mere ranger. He is Aragorn, son of Arathorn. Heir to the throne of Gondor. You owe him your allegiance." His voice came out proud and haughty, ringing clearly, much to his surprise, since the entirety of the previous night had been spent weeping himself hoarse. There was still a lingering pain in his chest but he ignored it now. There were more important matters to attend to. First and foremost, that little band of gold that stood in the center of the council. Such a small thing…

Yet he felt the power emanating from it. He could almost hear the foul tongue of Mordor echoing in his ears. _Ash nazg timbalûk…_ He clenched his jaw fiercely and pushed the voices out of his mind with all his will.

"He is Aragorn? You must jest."

Aragorn hesitated and Legolas saw him push down an angry retort. Instead, he raised his hand and motioned for Legolas to sit.

Legolas sat, his eyes lingering on the Ring. There it sat, exuding the very core of evil. Placed in the hands of a frightened halfling. Such a thing would decide the course of the future, of the world. If the council did not choose wisely everything would crumble. And he was fretting over a maiden he had met when he was but a child? He felt the sudden urge to laugh at himself. 

But still, the pain he could not forget or push completely out of his mind. He could still hear the council speaking and he listened, but only from a distance. Their voices sounded faint. 

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"Never come looking for me. Never speak to me." Erlyannil's words echoed in his ears but with an effort he pushed them aside and brought his attention into focus. It was a pity he had finally gotten the chance to see her again in such troubled times. In fact, perhaps it would have been better had he not even seen her. He shouldn't have searched the city last night. Legolas grimaced. His cheek below his right eye still stung, but only lightly. All the same, it was too distinct a reminder of the pain. The pain he felt. The pain he had undoubtedly caused her.

He saw it in her eyes. That wild look in her eyes, and he felt the fierce beating of her heart against his. Yet she only gave it for moments, and in the end it was her…practical side that prevailed. Practical? Yes, that was the right word. For Legolas had been the irrational one, thinking blindly that after so long a time she would still want to see him and awaken all the memories so long gone. 

"Then let us destroy it!" A dwarf suddenly rose from his seat and brandished his ax. It swung onto the metal band and suddenly Legolas felt a deafening surge of unmistakable evil around him. His ears were ringing as he looked down amidst the chaos and saw that the ax had been splintered into pieces. A mithril ax. And the small band lay untouched.

The full weight of the discussion suddenly bore down on him at that moment. Erlyannil was of no more importance than the preparation of the autumn festival next year. The council had seemed serious enough before, and Legolas subconsciously knew the reality of the power that was held in that ring. Yet, not until now had he felt fully the true forces around it. There was evil, and there was only one thing to do with it.

"The Ring cannot be destroyed, Gimli son of Gloin, by any craft of which any of us possess here. It must be taken to the cracks of Mount Doom, where it was forged, and cast into the fires of Mordor. One of you must do this." Elrond looked around at the circle. Legolas glowered at the Ring as silence fell upon the council. A faint bird song could be heard somewhere far off and the silent sound of leaves falling upon to the ground of the forest.

"I do not understand all this," the man of Gondor suddenly spoke, "Why do you speak ever of hiding and destroying? Why should we not think that the Great Ring has come into our hands to serve us in the very hour of need?"

"The Ring was made by Sauron and remains for him alone. The very desire of it corrupts the heart. Even I will not wield it, Boromir."

  
"Nor will I," Gandalf said grimly.

Then who? The question was running through every person's mind at the moment. And it continued to do so until the noon-bell rang in the distance. Still no one spoke. Legolas did not even think twice about answering. Neither Elrond nor Gandalf could wield it, and the power was so great that even while it was not in his possession, Legolas could feel it calling to him. He grasped the handles of his chair and pushed the black words out of his head. 

Suddenly, the small hobbit spoke out, quietly at first, but the his voice grew in courage. "I will take the Ring," he said, looking about at the circle with unmistakable fear in his eyes, "though…though I do not know the way."

Elrond looked up at the hobbit. "If I understand aright all that I have heard, I think that this task is appointed for you, Frodo; and that if you do not find a way, no one will."

Legolas was amazed at the hobbit's valor. Yet he knew he must do something…which he did not want to do…

"No matter where you may have to travel, Frodo, by my life I will protect you." Aragorn had stood and now he was kneeling in front of the small hobbit. "You have my sword."

Legolas shoved all hesitation aside and spoke. "And you have my bow." The dwarf said likewise as did the man of Gondor. But Legolas was not paying attention. For his decision rested heavily on his mind. There was no other choice—he had to go, to represent his people, and it was in his responsibility to see it through. And yet…

What if he was to be killed by the servants of Mordor? He had no fear of them, nor of death, but at this point there was nothing more that he wanted than to find her again. For what reason, though? Not to convince her that he loved her, or to persuade her to run away with him, marry him, or love him again--

But to apologize. For having thought she would love him still. For still having loved her and not being able to forget. For seeking her out the night before just to cause her more pain. For having come to the same place at the same time so that she was forced to see him again. 

Perhaps it was better, though, that he never saw her again. Perhaps fate meant it to be so. And then there would be nothing in his power to do. He would never see her again, most likely, and she would live happily forever with whoever it was she had met, with one faint memory of that miserable Elf who had remained faithful to her for his entire lifetime. Yes, there was nothing better he could do for her. If he truly loved her he would remove himself from her life completely by never letting himself have the chance of happening upon her for the rest of his life. So that she would be happy, so she wouldn't have to live with the pain that he felt for the last one thousand seven hundred years and that he would most definitely feel for the remainder of his life. If she even felt that pain in the first place.

Legolas sighed and stared at the ground as Elrond bestowed upon the company he had just interjected himself into, the name of the Fellowship of Nine. This journey would be a long one, to put it mildly.

And I'll never see her again. For you, Erlyannil. This is what I will do for you.

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A/N: I used a mixture of the Council scene from the movie and the book, though the majority of it is from the movie (not accurately…I don't have that good of a memory). Just generally, of course, since you all don't want to have to read through it again since you all know what happens. So sorry for inconsistencies or things I left out, but it was for the purpose of shortening it—it had to be included to show some of Legolas' points of view on the circumstances. Otherwise the council is irrelevant. From here forth, the journey as we all know it progresses as will be summarized in the following chapter. And since we all know the story _so_ well, I suppose I'll just skip to the important parts. ^.^


	5. Lothlorien

**__**

Footsteps to Rivendell

A Sequel to Golden Leaves of Lórien

By Ellwyn Phoenix

(Email to: jidai_rinoa@hotmail.com)

___________________________________________________________________________

Chapter Five: Footsteps to Lothlórien

The soft sound of footfalls in the wild grass reached his ears. Somewhere far away he could hear wind whispering in trees. But ahead, no wind dared reach the still forest. He could see spears of light penetrating into the woods beyond the trees that fringed the border. Everything was silent, and still as if in a dream.

And it was a dream to Legolas. His hands were stained black with dirt and the blood of orcs. His tunic was spattered and worn, his quiver empty. After the long darkness of the mines there was nothing more he wanted than to escape into the open, and wander through the trees. But when Aragorn had proclaimed that they seek refuge in Lothlórien, Legolas' heart stopped in his throat. 

He was running towards the golden woods now, the halflings struggling to keep up behind him, and Aragorn leading the way. There was nothing he could do to avoid going there.

The unspeakable terror he had felt at the creature of fire and shadow was more than he could handle. No creature of Mordor could make him shiver as much as he did then, nor the haunting spirits of mortals. The only thing he feared more than the Balrog was Sauron. But he did not fear Sauron himself—he feared what the dark lord was capable of doing to the beautiful lands he knew so well. That terror, and the too-recent grief at watching Mithrandir fall into darkness, hampered his mind. And yet the events of the previous month seemed almost irrelevant. 

He wanted more than anything now to rest in the shade and ethereal beauty of the woods before him. But there were things that already stirred in him, even before he had set foot inside Lórien.

He could nearly hear the laughter of the Elves in the heart of the forest. He could nearly see the silver light cascading onto staircases, archways, groves, he could nearly feel the clear water running over his hands. 

And he could hear her ringing laughter chorusing in with the others, he could see the silver light illuminating her features, making her dark eyes light up. He could feel her waist and her hand like that night he had danced with her, he could feel her body pressed against his as he kissed her.

But then he could also feel the poignant sting in his cheek. And see the pain wrought on her face, the tears making rivers down her cheeks.

If only there was some way I could avoid that place. 

But she might not be there, he told himself. She lives in Rivendell, no doubt happily married to that elf, whoever he is.

All the same, there was too much pain in that place. Legolas was afraid that the second he saw the city, he would break down and weep. He wondered what the dwarf would think of him then. He nearly chuckled at himself despite the pain welling up in his chest as they neared the forest.

______________________________________________________________________________

A chill wind blew up the valley and endless rustling of leaves could be heard. "Lothlórien… Alas that it is winter…" Legolas murmured under his breath. In the night the trees stood tall, arching over the road, forming a gold-grey shadow. 

Soon they happened upon a stream that swirled into the waters of the Silverlode. Legolas knew the stream meant that they were soon approaching the city of the Elves, and his heart lay beating in his throat. "Nimrodel…so many songs in its mellow waters…the voice of Nimrodel." He began humming under his breath as the company followed him and waded through the stream. 

__

An Elven-maid there was of old, 

a shining star by day…

As they continued onward Legolas let his eyes drink in every bit of the forest. The wind no longer coursed through these woods as it had so many years before in torment. Now, the wood was peaceful in its age. Leaves crunched under his feet and he couldn't help but feel that that was his heart being crushed under his footsteps. 

__

Beside the falls of Nimrodel, 

by water clear and cool, 

her voice as falling silver fell into the shining pool…

Where she wanders none can tell,

in sunlight or in shade… 

They finally chanced upon a cluster of trees with thick, grey trunks. Legolas looked up then looked to the others. "I will climb up," he said, "I am at home among the trees. Those these are like none I have seen before…save in song, they are called _mellyrn_."

"Whatever it may be," Pippin spoke up, "they will be marvelous trees if they can offer any rest at all. Maybe the birds—I can't sleep on a perch!"

"Then dig a hole in the ground." Legolas smiled albeit bitterly and jumped lithely to catch a branch above his head. 

But just as he did so, a voice spoke sharply above him. "_Daro!_" it exclaimed. Legolas dropped back to the earth in astonishment. The hobbits looked up in wonder and fear. Legolas whispered hastily, "Do not move or speak!" 

"Who are they?"

"They're Elves," Sam replied matter-of-factly, "can't you hear their voices?"

Legolas' breath quickened and he grew wary as the elves began dropping from the branches above and surrounded them. The elves immediately aimed bow and arrow at them, and within a few moments they were completely encircled by the elven archers.

The dark made it increasingly difficult to see, but Legolas could discern that there were nearly twelve elves in all.

Suddenly one of the elves caught his attention. It was so dark that he could not see the features of the elf, but Legolas continued to peer at the elf. The elf was standing at his right side, and his arrow was aimed at his head. Legolas forced himself to look away.

"Haldir of Lórien," Aragorn spoke up suddenly, "we are in need of rest and sanctuary. Please, we come without threat."

An elf Legolas did not recognize stepped forward and nodded to the others to lower their bows.

Legolas turned again to face the elf at his side. A stream of moonlight had managed to penetrate through the dense rooftop of leaves and silver light fell on the ground nearby. In the dim light, Legolas could finally perceive some of his features. But it wasn't a he, Legolas quickly discovered. The dark green and black tunic, the elf shoes and the black leggings served as a disguise and under the cover of dark she could be mistaken easily for a male archer. But he was very certain that it was a she.

His stomach tightened and he stopped breathing suddenly. Unless he was mistaken…

The maiden was, she could be…

No, it wasn't her.

Wait. He peered at her again and saw the tenseness in her stance. She had not lowered her bow yet. It was now pointed at his chest. Legolas saw the trembling in her arm, the forced composure. 

It was.

Her eyes met his, but only fleetingly. He could be mistaken, after all. It _was_ very dark. But all the same, inwardly his mind was shouting that she was standing right next to him. After all he had gone through, to avoid her, after he had vowed to stay away from her for his entire life…

But he didn't want to, and he knew it. For the entire journey, though most of the time the present danger was all her could concentrate on, as they trudged through valleys or over mountains Legolas' thoughts had turned to her. And what he had decided to leave behind. There was nothing else to say but that he regretted his decision. Now, it seemed to him that he was getting another chance. Perhaps fate was intent on not allowing him to fulfill his decision.

He looked back up, and she looked away at the other members of the Fellowship. Legolas noticed the slight faltering in her stance.

He kept his face expressionless and refused to look at her. The Elf Haldir motioned for them to follow him and the remaining elves flanked them on the sides and rear. Legolas took his spot at the end of his companions. She was walking directly behind him.

He felt unbearably stiff, unable to focus on anything. If someone were to ask him where he was going at the time he would have replied with a meaningless mutter.

She was walking at his side and a little behind. Legolas finally brought up the courage to whisper, "Lyann," under his breath so that only she could hear. She did not turn or look up, just kept staring at the ground before them. "I'm sorry." His voice sounded far away to him. Legolas kept his head down.

She still wasn't replying. So he sucked up the pain welling in his chest and forced himself to walk silently. Her all too conspicuous presence at his side, though, was unnerving. 

Finally, after what seemed like eternity, they reached the city of the elves. Legolas looked up at the silver light cascading onto the eaves of trees and staircases, his breath caught at the familiar scenery. It brought back so many memories. 

The other elves flanking them began to disperse. Legolas' wanted to cry out when she too followed suit without a backward glance. She was calm. Too calm, too composed. Now he knew she had already noticed him, but was trying as hard as she could not to. 

Aragorn was ascending a long winding staircase around the base of a tree. Legolas watched the uncertain hobbits follow, saw the heart-wrenchingly weary expressions on thei faces. He realized he must look the same, though less so. Even if he was an elf, at this moment he felt no more resilient than the other members of the Fellowship. He sighed.

Haldir led them up the stairs to an ethereally lighted platform where Galadriel and Celeborn were standing. Legolas bowed with the others and then stood. 

The Lady's eyes scanned over the party, pausing on each member, and when they reached him, Legolas detected a change in her expression. She seemed almost sad in anticipation. Anxious. Galadriel, nevertheless, nodded faintly at him to show her recognition. Legolas' face was devoid of expression, contrary to the raging turmoil within. He took a deep breath and lowered his eyes.

___________________________________________________________________________________________________

Disclaimer: Some excerpts were taken from The Fellowship of the Ring. This being a work of fanfiction, I never intended any infringement on J.R.R. Tolkien, Tolkien Enterprises, or the Saul Zaentz Co., or whatever else I'm missing… 

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A/N: Sorry folks for the long wait; I had a homework crisis and a concert last weekend that took up about 8 hours of my precious homework time. So, no time left over for writing fanfiction. There may be another delay from this one to the next chapter, but I hope you guys can just read really slowly and I'll be writing as much as I have time for! Thanks.


	6. The Old and the New

**__**

Footsteps to Rivendell

A Sequel to Golden Leaves of Lórien

By Ellwyn Phoenix

(Email to: jidai_rinoa@hotmail.com)

__________________________________________________________________________

Chapter Six: The Old and the New

An eerie melody that only accentuated the fragility of the city was drifting through the trees. The song of the Elves made Legolas want to do nothing but weep. But he held himself in check. This was not the time nor place for him to indulge in his own petty emotions. There was a grander scheme at work and Mithrandir's passing was the main reason, but not the only, for his secretive mourning.

The Elves had taken them in kindly, though it seemed to him that since he had last ventured there the woods had changed drastically. The people were quiet, subdued. They kept aloof and besides offering them rest, food, and clothing, there were no more interactions. They did not sing the merry lilting melodies of old, nor did they hold celebrations of the moon in the grove. The scene had not changed but the very mood of the people made everything foreign. It pained Legolas that such a majestic city had grown so melancholy in so short a time. He knew the reason all too well. The years and years of grief, the gradual wearing away at the peoples' heart and soul, were what had made Lothlórien what it was now. He saw the resignation in Galadriel's eyes. The people knew that she had seen terrible things in the future. Things that seemed all too clear now. 

He sighed. It brought Elessar's attention to him, and the ranger looked up from the sword he was cleaning. 

"I have not heard you sigh in much time, nîn mellon, and it is a surprise that it comes from you—what did you say to me about sighing, so long ago in the woods of your home?"

"That every sigh is like a thread of your soul unwinding and dissipating into the air." He heard his voice and it sounded dead to him. Legolas trudged to a large tree root where a fountain was discharging clear water. He took up the silver pitcher that rested next to it for drinking in his hands and filled it with water. Legolas relished the feeling of the cold metal in his fingers. It countered the throbbing there that ached in every part of him.

"Ah, the adages of the Elves. Their melody breaks something in me that I thought could not be broken. What do they sing, Legolas?" 

"A lament for Gandalf."

Aragorn's eyes flickered into pain briefly. "What do they say about him?" Legolas noticed his voice was nearly as deadened as his own. So even the ranger was weary. The journey was long and hard and this place was the perfect sanctuary. But for one thing that stood in the way.

"I have not the heart to tell you," Legolas managed in a barely audible voice, "for me the grief is still too near."

Aragorn lowered his gaze and went back to polishing the sword. Legolas took a deep breath, refrained from sighing (with much effort) and set the pitcher down next to the king wordlessly. He did not look up.

______________________________________________________________________

Legolas was descending the stairs from the treetops. It was obvious that the fellowship was reluctant to move on from this long needed rest. He guessed they would stay here several days, a week at the most. So there was nothing he could do but wander, although the memories that the familiar images brought back were not exactly pleasant. Maybe, he thought, he was subconsciously punishing himself for digging himself into a hole he couldn't get out of. Or maybe he was just masochistic. Either way, there was something in him that made him want to find her again. But it would be unproductive—he couldn't allow himself to speak to her. Even looking at her again would be going against everything he vowed not to do. But still…

He stared at the step below his feet and with every step it felt as though his heart was quaking and would shatter if he was not cautious. So he took his steps lithely, resting each foot down on the step as gently as he could and then lowering himself down. 

His eyes cast about slowly, never darting. Finally, his eyes fell on a grove below him and to the side of the staircase a ways. Amidst it he could see several Elves, speaking in low voices. His foot finally hit the forest floor.

"Fear…Galadriel has seen…ringbearer…" was all he could hear from the Elves in the grove. He took another step but this time his attention was diverted and the toe of his shoe tripped against the dirt. His foot hit the ground hard. Shivers ran through his body. 

One of the conversationalists was not taking part in the conversation. The quiet Elf was standing nearly apart from the group. He could not see her face for she was standing with her back to him. The desire to walk around the grove from afar so he could see her face for the last time was burning in his mind. What he wanted to do…but what he knew he _should_ do was turn around and leave. Immediately, so she did not turn around by mischance and see him standing there. 

But all the same, he hesitated, drinking in every moment, vowing to remember the image forever and then tore his eyes away. He turned around and took a step back the way he had come.

He was up to the ninth step when he sensed someone at the foot of the stairs. He didn't turn around, nor did he want to now. He had made up his mind and it would vex him if he had gone through so much for nothing. So he stood there for a few moments, then, realizing the Elf behind him was not ascending, continued up with his back to her.

At this, a voice broke through the loud ringing in his ears.

"Legolas."

He stopped. No matter how much he told them to, his legs would not move further up the stairs. 

It was the way she said it. The pain in her voice. Not so much the pain, but the fact that before, all the other times, she had hidden it behind some false mask. And even if he could sense it before, she had never let her guard down. Now it was laid bare, with nothing to conceal it.

Legolas bit down on his lip and shut his eyes tightly. _I will not be part of your life._ He mustered all his strength and took another step.

"Wait!" It reached his ears as a hoarse whisper. Desperate.

He couldn't do it anymore. Too much of it welled up and he nearly choked on the tears that threatened to drown him. He turned around.

  
There she was, standing there at the bottom, ten feet below him. The light illuminated the tears that bordered her eyes.

"Oh Erlyannil," he whispered. She did not hear him, though. 

They stood there and the silence screamed at them. Finally, he heard her gasp, a sharp intake of breath. She was crying. _What are you doing still standing here? Go!_ his mind yelled. Legolas yielded against and yet with his will.

His cheek was pressed against her cheek, and her ear, and her hair, and he could feel the wetness on her face. 

"For…me…" he heard her gasping between sobs. The world faded away and left nothing but them and Legolas shut his eyes, wanting the moment to be all he knew.

"What? What?" his voice whispered into her ear.

"For…give…" 

At that, Legolas drew back from her so he could look at her face. Her eyes were closed tightly. Finally, she opened them and the feeling that went rampant through him at that look they shared could have shattered the indestructible ring. He smiled. Relief was an understatement. The pain trickled away in his tears and he didn't do anything to stop it. He felt her lips on his and held her close. The thing he most dreaded at this point was that he would lose her again. _Never,_ he vowed, _never. _

They finally broke apart and Legolas forced himself to let go of her. He stepped backwards and his heel scraped the edge of a stair. He could hear his own breathing: swift and erratic. The tears were gone from her eyes now, but she was just looking at him. Like a stranger. That was what hurt the most.

"No…" She was talking to herself, it seemed.

"What?" Legolas asked.

"Of course not. How silly could I be to think that after all I did to you, you would still love me?"

"That never changed. It never does."

"No, but from the pain I caused you. Do you think you could actually put it behind you and believe that I would not lie to you again?" Now he understood why she looked so unfamiliar. She was distancing herself from him.

"What…" He was at a loss for words. True, she had hurt him. So much that despite all his feelings for her she had caused him to turn away and try to forget her. It would have taken a lot to make him do something like that. And it did. He bit down on his lip.

"Even if you said you could forgive me you really wouldn't, not truly, because nothing can get rid of memories. We both know that too well." Her voice was shaky.

Legolas shook his head suddenly, as if snapping out of a reverie. "What are you talking about? What does it matter to me…"

"I thought I loved him, you know."

Legolas fell silent. The elf she had spoken about when they met in Rivendell.

"I convinced myself that I did. But then, after seeing you, it became impossible to live in such a illusory world. I came back home. And now…I do not see how it can be possible for it to be. How can the pain every disappear? Nothing can be built on a foundation of pain."

They were silent for far to long then. Legolas' head swam. His spirits were soaring but it was as if someone had taken a sword to them and sliced off their wings. 

But then it was all too clear. There was no reason why they should make matters so difficult for themselves. The reason was that they had spent so long away from one another, so used to the way things were, so used to pain, that they could not accept that here was a chance, and it meant they could actually be together. Nothing stood in the way for the first time. And she was afraid of it.

Not just her, he realized, but himself. She was using her guilt and her actions as a way of shutting him out again. But he was listening to her, allowing himself to accede to her words…

"Erlyannil," he said suddenly. His ears stopped ringing then.

She looked up.

"There is nothing that stands in the way of what I am about to do now. Nothing, _lle rangwa? _Everything is built on a foundation of pain. The world is made of sadness, Lyann. If I love you, and you love me, then what reason can you conjure that stands in the way of what bliss we could have?" 

His legs finally responded to him, and his footsteps as he stepped down the last stairs were quiet and calm, a soft but confident noise. He took her hand and led her around the staircase, away from the city. Away from the place that had caused so much misery. 

********************************************************************

And once they were away, into the woods, the golden light streaming down on them miraculously although the sun was long ago set and only moonlight was visible, he led her to a copse. In the center was a large _mellyrn_ tree with a smooth grey trunk. Its golden leaves had fallen off the branches long ago and lay on the ground around it, trampled into the earth, dusty from the soil. Legolas reached down and picked up a small, soiled leaf. It was crumpled around the edges, dried and torn. He handed it to Erlyannil. She was silent, merely staring down at the decrepit leaf in her hand. 

"It has been withered, by the pain of winter's biting cold. The life source that flowed to it from the tree's roots is gone because the soil around the tree is frozen and lifeless. So the leaf dies," Legolas explained quietly.

Erlyannil stared down at it, pensive.

"But come spring, the soil is restored to life and the tree is brought to life once more."

"The leaf remains dead," Erlyannil cut in, "and decays with the rest of the dead leaves."

"Yes." Legolas took it from her again and placed it back on the forest floor. "But from the tree sprout new, golden leaves. They are born anew upon sadness that comes once a year. Old things are withered by pain and cannot be mended. But the new can rise where the old have passed."

She looked up at him then. Her eyes were black, full and not empty, devoid of any emotion save for the one that he too felt so poignantly. 

She smiled.

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Disclaimer: This being a work of fanfiction, I never intended any infringement on J.R.R. Tolkien, Tolkien Enterprises, or the Saul Zaentz Co., or whatever else I'm missing…

A/N: It's not over…not yet, anyway. That will have to wait until next week. Thank you very much to everyone who has read and reviewed. This story was written for the readers of Golden Leaves, anyway. I hope it has fulfilled your expectations if not surpassed. ^.^ lol. At least it wasn't another tragic ending…


	7. Transient Bliss

**__**

Footsteps to Rivendell

A Sequel to Golden Leaves of Lórien

_______________________________________________________________________________

Chapter Seven: Transient Bliss

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A/N: Finally! So sorry…didn't even finish in this chapter, which I meant to do in the first place. Oh well. I'll try to keep up with the end. Happy new year everybody! :)

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He smiled back at her, and for the first time in a thousand years pure joy lit up his eyes. He took her into his arms and nestled his cheek against her hair, breathing in the scent of leaves. And then, much to his own surprise, he started to laugh. It started as a chuckle, then unbridled laughter, and finally he was laughing so desperately that he wasn't sure whether he was laughing or sobbing. The mirthful tears coursed rivers down his face, brushing away the remnants of dirt still clinging to his face. He began to wonder if maybe he was smothering her; his embrace was so tight and she was being completely silent. So, though it was the last thing he wanted to do, he drew back and searched her face.

She wasn't suffocating. She just stood there, her eyes lambent, the faint luster of moonshine illuminating crooked streams down her cheeks. She was still smiling.

"What now?" she asked quietly. 

Legolas looked down at her and a grin played across his face. Though it was soon overshadowed by an expression of solemnity, and there was no more laughter. "What luck," he cursed, "O, Elbereth. Happiness is too fleeting. It seems the stars have condemned me to be incessantly heartbroken." 

"You are part of the Fellowship…to destroy the Ring," she said absent-mindedly. He nodded at the obvious and fought back the urge to sigh heavily.

"We sought sanctuary here, and rest. And we have found it. Now…time is short and the time we must depart is nigh. Why am I cursed always? So many years have I waited, and now that the moment has arrived it seems it must perish all too soon." Legolas lifted a hand to caress her cheek and tuck a strand of stray hair behind her ear. His breath caught when she leaned into his hand, her lips brushing his hand ever so briefly.

"Time passes quickly, Legolas. Moments will perish, but when you return I will not yet have perished. It is not my time yet, and I have not heard the call of Valinor." Erlyannil tried to smile reassuringly. But he shook his head and cast his eyes down.

"Time does not pass quickly when your soul lies faraway and all your thoughts are bent on something out of reach. I learned that only too well."

"Legolas…if you could wait a thousand years, a hundred more would not matter. It is not time that worries me. It is…what lies in the black lands," she said. And for the first time he saw the desperation he thought only he felt mirrored in her face. Her eyes were starting to water again. 

"No…do not think of it," he insisted at a whisper, and drew her to him. 

Her voice was muffled against the cloth of his tunic. "Legolas…"

"What?" he asked softly, for the fear that lest he speak too loudly it would shatter this precious moment that seemed so frail it would float away like a wisp of smoke. Leaving Legolas standing there in that clearing, in Lothlórien, with no one in his arms, no one's lips to kiss, no one to murmur his name softly so that his heart beat like a tempest.

She drew away and he realized how cold it was to not be pressed against her. "I will be heartbroken when you leave," she whispered. "More so than the last time, for now I can no longer lie to myself about how much I need you."

Her eyes wavered and he drew her to him, thinking she would weep, but instead she abruptly kissed him. Legolas was taken aback for a moment, but the he surrendered to his own passion. Before, he had caressed her with only the lightest of touches, lusting for more but held in check by his honor for her and so that she would not feel threatened. Now, he entangled his fingers in her hair and allowed his passion to pour forth. He felt her mouth part, their tongues warring with each other. He suppressed a moan; never had he kissed someone with so much passion, and yet so much effort into holding himself back. His heart felt as though it would rupture. He dared not let himself do anything without first her consent. When she pulled away he wanted to cry out in protest. But instead, she merely lifted her hands and began to undo the clasps of his tunic. Legolas recoiled a little to stop her.

"I love you," he whispered, "and I want you, and there is no reason for't, save insanity. There is no reason why I put myself through such misery for so many years, save for the reason that I love you, and there is no reason behind that, either." One pale sleeve slid off her shoulder and he kissed her skin there reverently. He could see her breath forming momentary clouds in the twilight air. It felt warm on his neck. 

"There is never reason behind love," she said, her lips against his ear, "but the knowledge that love creates chaos amidst order and sadness where there was none. Still, for all the world, I would not rather have never fallen in love with you, even if I did not have to learn such grief."

Legolas smiled, and, with his face hovering over hers, their lips barely brushing, a faint breeze stirred the air and the dead leaves swirled, caught up in a tiny maelstrom.

*******************************************************

"You could always travel lightly on snow, my friend, but you never had the ability to walk below overhanging branches without having to bend down every step to avoid hitting your head! A pity that you are not a dwarf."

Legolas grimaced at his companion, the stout Gimli, who was carrying his ax slung over one shoulder, helmet in the other hand. He noticed the dwarf looking about the forest in deference and awe. A great contrast to the first time Gimli had set foot in Lothlórien. But then again, so much had changed in just three months.

He admitted to himself that he had been bending low and ducking every few steps under the low-growing branches of the _mellryn _trees. It seemed that the forest had grown dense and suddenly much darker, although it was May and by nature the woods should have been golden with a carpet of elanor blossoms. That was explainable, however, for they had seen the signs of havoc on the outskirts of the forest. The trees there had been ravaged and Legolas' mind had been heavy with anticipation. He could only remind himself that the people of Lothlórien were not easily conquered, and the power in the forest impervious to evil. And yet, his spirits were above the treetops. He was returning to the golden wood, and perhaps she would still be there. 

"True, Gimli, but then you could never do this," he replied whimsically, jumping lithely and leaping onto a branch above him. He remained perched there, grinning down at the scowling dwarf.

"No, but I may do this!" Gimli's gruff counter was accompanied by a swift chop at the tree's base. It shook the tree slightly but Legolas did not drop off the branch.

"You may, if you wish. It is not I that will punish you, but the tree, for that was a harsh blow." Legolas said absent-mindedly. 

"It was—just a scratch!" Gimli stuttered in apology, looking at the tree with reverence. Legolas leapt to a branch of a neighboring tree and then dropped to the ground. "Come, Gimli, Caras Galadhon awaits." 

____________________________________________________________________

They had journeyed for an hour, and the city came into view. The heavy, grey trunks and roots of the trees intertwined amidst translucent staircases that wound around and around endlessly. Yet there was no song nor light any longer. Legolas had felt the melancholy ambience upon setting foot in the woods. He sighed.

"Galadriel has passed into the West," he whispered to himself. Legolas saw his own disappointment mirrored in Gimli's face. The dwarf, too, had sought to set eyes upon the fair Lady once more. 

But something more weighed on Legolas' mind. Had Erlyannil, too, gone to the West? An Elf was approaching, clad in silver garb. Blue eyes were ringed by weariness.

"Kinsman." The Elf raised his hand in greeting. Then his eyes turned to Gimli, and recognition passed through his face. "Gimli, son of Gloin, friend of Elves. And you…Legolas, prince of _Eryn Lasgalen_."

It was then that Legolas recognized him. One of the Elf archers who had escorted the Fellowship through Lórien to Caras Galadhon when they had first ventured there. But something rang unfamiliar in his ears. "_Eryn Lasgalen?_ Why do you call it so?"

"Do you not know? Indeed, you must have not yet returned to your father's wood," Legolas noticed that the Elf's voice was tinged with remorse. "For Celeborn and Thranduil have named it so. Wood of Greenleaves."

Legolas understood then. The golden wood had been besieged by the forces of Sauron; he had felt the disturbance in the air, the ancient trees' lament as they were soiled, their branches burned. 

"Three times they came, and three times they were driven back. Celeborn led a host over the Anduin to be rid of the pestilence. But many left, to sail to Valinor or to _Eryn Lasgalen_. So few of us remain," the Elf explained. Legolas noticed his eyes casting over the city with sorrow.

"And Galadriel…" Gimli began hesitantly. Legolas looked down at his companion with pity.

"She has passed into the west," the Elf said what they already knew. One more question weighed heavily on Legolas' mind.

He stepped forward. "Kinsman, tell me, where is Erlyannil Galadh, the maiden whom the Lady harbored?" He was afraid to hear the answer.

"Erlyannil? Perhaps she resides in your woods. I cannot recall when she left, nor where she intended to go." The Elf looked at Legolas and his eyes burned with recognition. "Yes…you would be searching for her, son of Thranduil. For I remember, long ago, when there was a breach between our people and yours. Now, indeed, it is no longer so, but I am afraid that our time is over. There is nothing more to see in Caras Galadhon." And it was true, for all Legolas could feel in this city was solemnity and grief.

Legolas lowered his gaze, feeling suddenly chagrined. "Come Gimli, I have seen the glittering caves and you have seen Fangorn. But now I must draw you to the forest of my people. Thank you, kinsman. Namarië." He put a fist to his heart and lifted his hand in farewell. The Elf did likewise and turned back to the city. 

"Who was she?" Gimli suddenly asked. Legolas shook himself out of a stupor.

"…A maiden, taken in by Galadriel long ago to grow up amongst her mother's people. Her father…belonged to my realm. I met her long ago…" his eyes threatened to fill with tears and his throat burned. A bittersweet smile touched his lips. "And again during our brief jaunt to Lórien, what seemed like so long ago." _She said the Undying Lands did not yet call for her. The others have gone…but perhaps she remains,_ he prayed silently.

Gimli nodded in understanding and suddenly grinned. "I thought you would never speak of it, my friend, or that you had never fallen in love."

Legolas turned to him. "And you, Gimli?"

"I fell in love once, yes, but when I came back from a long journey to marry her she had grown a beard, and I could not tell the difference between her and her brothers. I could not take the chance, for fear of marrying the wrong one." Gimli grinned and Legolas' face briefly lit up with a mirthful smile. 

Then Legolas and Gimli took one last look at the shimmering remains of what had been the silver city, and turned back to go they way they had come.

*****

Disclaimer: I don't have enough time or imagination to think up a world with its own history and languages of all the people. I leave that to Prof. Tolkien. And the rights to Lord of the Rings belong to…New Line Cinema, Houghton Mifflin, Saul Zaentz & Co., Tolkien Enterprises…whatever else I'm missing… I can't really claim my original character either, since the basis behind it all is just something I made up, whether or not it's accurate. I'm sure the Elves of Lothlórien got along very well with the Mirkwood Elves. Oh, well. :)


	8. Mirkwood

Chapter Eight: Mirkwood

A/N: Took me…so…long to get this done. Months. Half a year, I think. Well, I kept forgetting and putting it off, and pretty soon I had decided to leave it undone. But I could never do that to this story! Even though I've done enough… lol. I hope this is the ending you were waiting for. Er, I hope you were waiting for an ending, that is. I wouldn't blame you if you stopped waiting. :) So sorry. Well, here. 

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Legolas hummed softly as he walked. The light in the west was waning quickly now; the red of the dying sun tinted the trees of his home eerily and reflected in his eyes. Gimli trudged along behind him, staring around at the tall, ominous trees around them. The elf could tell that his companion was suppressing the urge to finger his ax. And Gimli would have, but for their well-remembered excursion through Fangorn, and the memory of the angry trees that had stood on the border of Isengard.

"Your woods are dark, Legolas," Gimli finally managed to mutter, for fear that if he spoke too loudly the trees would bend down to glare at him. 

"But they are not as dark as Fangorn, nor as old. Yet ancient creatures lurk here often--" He interrupted himself mid-sentence, for something had alerted his senses.

Gimli saw Legolas' sudden shift to wariness and brandished his ax with eager. "Spiders, are they? Seems like my ax will soon be getting some action!" 

Gimli looked about frantically, but Legolas was still, and he looked only in one direction. Towards the heart of the forest, where, though he could not see it above the canopy of trees, he knew a thread of smoke was rising. A thread that had once been a pillar, and not too long ago, for the faint smell lingered in the mesh of trees, from which scents did not often escape. 

"What is it, friend?" Gimli asked, puzzled. He had again lowered his ax after a cautious glance at the nearest tree.

"The orcs of the North have made war against my people," Legolas whispered quietly. Now he knew the reason for the dank atmosphere in Mirkwood—or, as the Elf in Lorién had told them it was called now, _Eryn Lasgalen_. Wood of the Greenleaves, he thought. My father's woods. My woods. But what good is it, to be a prince, to be back among my people? Nothing seemed worthy of joy to him anymore. 

Mirkwood was always dark and brooding, but never as it was now. There was something in the air, and something echoing in his ears like the remnants of a mourning song of the Elves, still threading through the leaves. 

"Orcs?!" Gimli's ax was raised again. "By Thorin, let us hurry! There may yet still be some left for--"

"No, my friend," Legolas smiled, but he could not hide the traces of sadness on his face, "they have been gone long, as they have been gone from Caras Galadhon. Our woods have been much tainted by darkness, but they still linger. I wish I could say the same for our people."

"All the Elves have passed into the west, then?" Gimli looked reverently to the direction he thought was west. After all, he couldn't tell very well; they had been walking in the dark forest with no sense of direction (or so it seemed to him. To an Elf, it must not be so, he thought, since Legolas had known exactly where the mountains were when they were yet miles away) for the better part of a day.

"No, Gimli, some still remain."

Gimli thought he heard something hopeful in Legolas' voice. "You hope that your maiden still lingers in this land?" he asked.

Legolas walked ahead without replying. He finally looked back and said, "This is the age of men now, and the Elves have gone away. I would not have it so, but there is nothing I can do. There is nothing left to hope."

Gimli was moved by the heavy resignation in Legolas' voice. He had not known the Elf had been so hopelessly in love with whomever it was they had sought in Lothlorién. In fact, he had rarely known the Elf to be affected by anything so much. Legolas always possessed a lofty air about him that gave him the aura of a spectator, and nothing more. But now, he was no longer the aloof Elf, in tune with nature, skilled as a relentless assassin. He was human, or as human as Elves could get, Gimli thought. He had a weakness, and he felt unbearable sadness that was much closer than the deep sadness felt by all Elves for the ruining of the lands.

"Perhaps there is. Your father must linger here, no?" Gimli asked cautiously.

"Yes…" 

"Well, if those left in Lothlorién don't know where to find her, perhaps your father will know."

"I doubt it."

Legolas suddenly felt tears about to well up, and his chest tightened with the effort to keep from crying. The happiness, the unbelievable joy he had felt last time he was in Lothlorién, with Erlyannil, before they had left and the Dark Tower had been destroyed, seemed so far away now. He had known it would have been hard to find her again, but he had never thought seriously about the fact that she might not be found. If she had, indeed, passed away…he would pass to the West in time, but that time was not now, nor would it be for long. And it would be long, if he had to wait without her.

********************************

The small band of Silvan Elves knelt at his and Gimli's feet, as Gimli looked at Legolas in confusion. Then, it dawned on him. He had nearly forgotten that Legolas was a prince of these Elves. 

"Prince, your father has long awaited your return," one said with an air much too lofty for one kneeling with his forehead to the ground. 

Legolas nodded and said something curtly in Elvish that must have been something similar to "get up," as the band quickly stood in unison. The one who had spoken before lapsed into conversation with Legolas as they began leading the prince and his companion into the city. Gimli walked behind, painfully aware of the cautious and slightly hostile glances in his direction from the other members of the Elf guard.

Soon enough, they had reached the edge of the city. It was lighter than the forest had been, but still darker than Lothlorién, Gimli thought. Or at least the trees were not alight with the mysterious silver hues of Caras Galadhon. The leaves were green and golden, and the city was the same. 

"Gimli," Legolas finally spoke to him as he fell back in stride with the dwarf, "welcome to my home. My people will be welcoming, but no more than they are willing to be to a dwarf, you must understand." He smiled heartily at his stout companion. "However, we will have a pleasant stay."

A stern, blonde Elf, taller than Legolas, was making his way towards the small band arriving from the woods. Atop his head was a golden crown, and he was clad in green and brown, though his clothing was rich, draped over him like robes. Legolas' tunic and leggings were of a much poorer quality, which was very much justified, Gimli thought, as he had worn his clothing throughout journey and battle.

"Son," Thranduil said in his low tones. "I wondered when you would return."

Father and son smiled at each other, and Gimli saw the relation clearly.

"It was a very long journey, father."

Thranduil suddenly saw the double meaning in his son's words. Yes, it had been long and tiresome, but not enough to an Elf to make him speak of it so. There was something else that made his son look so tired. 

"You have lost something?" Thranduil said finally, after a long pause in which he scrutinized the features of his son's face. 

Legolas hesitated. He knew his father would remember the time, so many hundreds of years before, when he had told his son to follow the paths of love. Legolas had not listened to him then. He had thought his duty came before, as it did, for their people and the Elves of Lorién had long since healed the breach between them. He had made the right decision, and he did not regret it. But his heart regretted it painfully.

Thranduil saw the thoughts flit across his son's face, and he turned to the Elves escorting his son and the Dwarf. "See to it that this friend of my son is taken to a warm meal and lodgings."

The Elves nodded and departed, Gimli trailing behind, still looking back anxiously at his friend.

"There was…do you remember…" Legolas was trying to start, but his voice had lost its force. He sounded too much like an insecure adolescent now, unable to express his thoughts.

"Yes?" Thranduil waited patiently.

"Very long ago, when we went to parley with Celeborn…"

Something clicked in Thranduil's mind. He smiled down at his son in surprise. "You still grieve? It has been so long. I thought you had forgotten."

"No, father. I never forgot." The truth was rising in his voice now, and his father could see the pain his son bore clearly. "She was in Rivendell, at the time of the Council. And I did not see her for very long hence, but then… we were forced to take refuge in Lothlorién."

Thranduil nodded. "You met again."

"Yes…"

"The Elves have left Lothlorien now. Galadriel is gone."

"I know. We journeyed there on our way." 

"I see."

Legolas sighed, and it was the sigh of one who has bowed to the forces of time and fate. It made his father's heart swell with pity, for he had never known his son to bear such pain.

"Legolas, you should rest. It has been long since you have been home, and it will do you good. Perhaps tomorrow we shall have a feast, and then, perhaps, you will be able to rid yourself of these grievances."

Legolas nodded quietly. He knew his father meant to say, "And perhaps at this feast you will set your eyes upon some young and beautiful maiden, and you will bring yourself to forget about the one you met so long ago." He watched his father ascend the stairs and turn a corner towards the king's hall, but he had no desire to follow him, nor had he any wish to rest in a room where his thoughts would pace across the floor relentlessly.

So, he trudged slowly through the city, recalling the sights and sounds of his familiar home. 

He had been around the square twice, when he decided the bright city was no match for his mood. It was then that he remembered the spring where he used to play and bathe as a child. He knew the way by memory, and he quickly set off, away from the city, upon a path that would not have been a path but for the small details he knew. 

Legolas arrived at the clearing after a few minutes. The sapling he remembered that grew next to the spring had become a large mallorn tree, its branches and leaves shading the pool of clear water. The spring had shrunk slightly since he was here last, but it was otherwise the same as he had left it. 

He slipped off his boots and slung off his bow and arrows, then took off the first layer of his tunic that had become soiled, and dipped it into the water. Then, rolling up his leggings, he let his feet dangle in the water and sat upon a rock at the edge. He closed his eyes and let his ears wander over the bird sounds of the forest.

********************************

It had been an hour since he had first arrived, and Legolas finally sat up. Sitting here had finally allowed his mind to stop aching with memory. He had been over it so many times before, already: why, since she seemed to have such a direct effect on his immediate happiness, didn't he just leave the Fellowship behind and stay with her in Lothlorién? True, it would have been against the vows he took. Yet…a part of his mind couldn't help but regret leaving her. The water was growing colder, though, and it made his mind stir again after a lethargic lapse. 

But it wasn't the fact that the water was becoming colder with nightfall that he quickly withdrew his feet and stood. Something was coming through the trees, slowly, into his clearing.

"Namaarië!" he called out in greeting, half expecting a beastly snarl or the pincers of a giant spider to answer his greeting. His bow and quiver lay within arm's reach; he remained calm and searched the darkened woods beyond the perimeter of the clearing with curious eyes.

There were a few moments of startled silence, and then he heard a reply.

"Namaarië," came a voice, "who is it?"

"Greenleaf," Legolas replied in Elvish, his eyes scanning the trees from which the voice descended. The name would be enough to warn anyone from the city that the prince resided there, and soon enough he would hear the sounds of them making their way back. But there was silence, and he could not hear a trace of movement. The trees rustled with the shallow breeze that graced the falling day.

He was about to turn back to the spring when, finally, someone emerged into the clearing. 

He stopped breathing. He expected his body had stopped functioning, save for his heart, which had begun thumping somewhere near his throat.

"You're still here," he heard himself whisper. _I fell asleep in the spring,_ he thought_, her spirit has come back to visit me from the west._

But Erlyannil's reaction was all too real. Her face wore an expression of genuine shock. She was as he remembered, just months ago in Lothlorién.

"I am still here," she replied. Legolas wondered how she could keep her voice so steady; his heart was singing all the songs of joy the Elves knew. "I wondered if you were coming back."

"How…why…" he stuttered.

"I left Lorién to come here, after the Orcs came to our woods. Galadriel left, and I came here with some others, for Lorién has become a mournful place. I thought you would not return."

Legolas felt the tears slide down his cheeks, this time, unstopped. He nearly ran to her, though there were only a few steps between them, and he embraced her in a hug that was so tight they could scarcely breathe. "I thought you were…"

"Legolas," Erlyannil was saying, "I wouldn't sail to the west…"

Legolas shook his head fiercely, like an angry, stubborn child would, his face against her shoulder, in her hair. "No…" He wondered why his father did not tell him that Erlyannil had come to Mirkwood to stay. Then he realized that, if she had come with several of the Lothlorién Elves, his father would not have recognized her. After all, Thranduil was not in love with her like he was, and love causes recognition in a crowd of thousands.

"By the stars," he whispered breathlessly. He drew away just long enough to look into her eyes, and the he kissed her gently but not without passion, for fear that she would wilt away like mist. "I believed you were gone."

She smiled, and there were tears in her eyes, both of grief and mirth. "I would have waited to sail to the west, even if all our people had gone, and I was the last of the Elves. I would never have left until I found you, or I knew that you had not survived the battles…" she trailed off. Then, "I feared you…had met death. I would never have found you then."

Legolas took her in his arms, for the relief in her eyes was too much like his own, and he did not want to see the worry that had caused it. He sighed happily. 

"You remember what you said about sighing?" Erlyannil asked, smiling playfully.

"Of course," he answered, "but now it is not threads of my soul escaping in my breath, but all the grief I have felt without you. My soul could never leave, now."

He took her hand in his and saw a white scar on her palm that had nearly disappeared with time. He ran his fingers over it as a memory was brought to mind.

"You ran away from me," he said. "I think you rather hated me." His mind replayed the image of her emerging from a corner, colliding with him, and falling upon the ground. She had scuffed her hands, and a corner of his mouth curved up as he recalled that she had been cursing under her breath without notice of him. Back then, he thought, he had been mesmerized by her, though she was no different from any other maiden. Perhaps it was only that he had seen her in the trees, and that was all that the winds called fate needed to begin their steady course.

"Perhaps I did," Erlyannil said, and Legolas saw a hint of the youthful haughtiness she carried long ago. But it soon disappeared, for her eyes sought his, and he saw the ravages of the years in them. "You saw me in that tree, when you first arrived, didn't you? You looked straight at me, though I was concealed."

"Of course I saw you. There was nothing that could keep me from you."

"Nothing," she repeated. She slipped her hand from his and kissed him. "The day was beautiful, and the night is even more so." Erlyannil whispered in his ear. There was a hint of exaggerated drama in her voice, and Legolas laughed to hear it. Soon Erlyannil, too, began to laugh, and they were laughing as they could only when they were small. For only children are free to such blissful innocence. 

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-the end- 

A/N: Boy. I never liked happy endings… sorry if I'm not so great at writing them. I couldn't make it long and drawn out—that would be so boring. No weddings, since it isn't exactly accurate… Legolas and Gimli sailed together down the Anduin at the end, implying Legolas never really had a romantic interest. Otherwise she would have come, too. Maybe she died before then. Er…of what? Isn't she immortal? Elves can die of heartbreak... But she can't have her heart broken because Legolas is still alive, unless he's become a nasty jerk. And, we know what's wrong with that. ^_^ Well, that's the problem. So, you decide what happens. :) 


End file.
